I'm HALPING! Pt 3 (Patreon)
Content
There was a phrase that went through Director Piggot's mind quite often, especially when dealing with those parahumans who were nominally under her command. However, due to the need for at least the appearance of propriety, she had never gotten around to using it.
Until right now.
“You have to be insane,” she stated flatly. She had no image of Armsmaster – this was a voice-only call – but she glared at the phone anyway. “Whoever or whatever that is, he handily defeated three of you in a matter of moments. You are not sending three Wards up against him. What are you thinking?”
On her computer monitor, the action that had been relayed from Armsmaster's helmet recording began to play through again, this time without sound.
“Uh, Director, it was actually my idea,” Miss Militia interjected; Armsmaster must have cut her in on a conference call. “And the plan is not to send them in to fight him.”
Piggot frowned. “Go on.”
“It's clear that this 'Zachary' does what Taylor Hebert tells him what to do. So in order to de-escalate the situation, we need to reach her. Attacking with force is not the way to do this. We've already proven that.”
“I'm listening.”
“Vista is the youngest of our Wards, and she's the only girl other than Shadow Stalker. But she's also a nice person, and quite unthreatening as Wards go. Also, she can retreat very rapidly if she has to.”
Piggot ran her tongue around her teeth. “And the other two?”
“Clockblocker may be irreverent, but that's what we need in this situation. He can make jokes on the fly, and keep things from getting too serious. And once again, he has an extremely potent defensive power. Gallant will be useful for keeping tabs on the emotional states of Zachary and the Hebert girl, and for guiding the conversation.”
Her plan almost sounded sensible, if it wasn't for the fact that it involved sending three teenagers in to talk with a parahuman who had inflicted major injuries on a Ward and three other teens. The trouble was, Emily could not think of a serious alternative that would not cause more problems in the long run. Gas the whole school? He may be immune, and he can throw grenades at bullet speed. Send in a capture team for the Hebert girl? Velocity already tried and failed, and if she gets hurt, it may send him berserk. She rubbed at her temples, trying to elicit a better option through sheer willpower. None came.
She sighed in frustration. “Do it. Set it up so that I can hear the conversation in realtime, and impress upon them that if I issue a pull-back order, they are to obey immediately. Do you understand?”
Miss Militia's response was crisp, betraying none of the self-doubt that Emily knew she had to be feeling. “Yes, Director. I understand perfectly.”
<><>
The three heroes exited the front doors of Winslow High. Armsmaster was subvocalising on his helmet radio, issuing orders. Ahead of them were several PRT vehicles, which Zachary and Taylor were approaching. PRT soldiers, in full body armour, stood around the vehicles.
Velocity stared at Hannah. “I thought -”
“- that I was going to advocate an attack?” she finished for him. “Well, that was an option, and it still might be one, but when I heard her response, I knew she wouldn't go for it. So I went with Plan B.”
“Which is to talk them down.” The doubt was clear in his voice.
“Does it matter how it's done, so long as the threat is removed?”
He grimaced. “I'd like to say yes, but the safety of civilians comes first.”
“Including the safety of Taylor Hebert,” Hannah reminded him. “She's the victim in all this, remember.”
“So she says,” he replied.
“All the evidence points that way,” she said. “Now, I don't know what Brute rating this Zachary has, or why he's decided to help her, but he seems to be predicating all of his actions around her safety. Which is another reason why we should not be harming her.”
“She told him that he's allowed to hurt us.” He didn't sound happy at that.
“Only if we attack him. And she specifically told him not to kill anyone.”
He frowned. “I'm led to wonder why she was so careful about making that requirement.”
She smiled sadly. “My first act as a parahuman was to kill a man. I'm just glad she's not taking that path.” She looked up. “Oh, that idiot. Armsmaster!”
<><>
I looked at the PRT vehicles. They really were very big and bulky. So were the PRT troopers in front of them. “Maybe we should walk around.”
“No, Taylor,” Zach said brightly. “We have chosen to walk in this direction. This is a public thoroughfare. They have parked in our way and are trying to deliberately obstruct us. This is a bullying tactic. I will not allow them to do this to us.”
“Okay, but you're not allowed to hurt them.”
“If they do not try to harm you, then I will not hurt them.” Zach's voice was serene. “I will not allow anyone to hurt you ever again.”
“I don't think it works that way,” I muttered. I raised my voice to address the PRT troopers. “Uh, guys? If you could just, you know, move the vehicles a bit? We want to walk through, and Zach doesn't like taking detours.”
The troopers looked at each other, then back at me. I wondered what they were thinking, but before I could think too deeply about it, someone came cartwheeling over the hood of the nearest vehicle and landed with a light thump in front of us. I might have jumped, just a little, and let out a squeak of fright. Just a little one, really. Hardly there at all. Before it had made its way out of my throat, before I even knew that he had moved, Zach was standing directly in front of me.
“Well, hello,” Assault greeted us cheerfully. “I presume you're Zachary, and the lady behind you is Taylor Hebert?”
“That is true,” agreed Zachary. “You are standing in our way. Please step aside, so that we may continue.”
Assault shook his head. “I don't think so, son.” A more serious tone entered his voice. “You've hurt people. That's kind of against the law.”
Having recognised Assault, I figured it had to be Battery in the white and grey costume, decorated with blue circuit-board lines, who stepped out from behind one of the vehicles.
“I have hurt people who hurt Taylor,” Zach said in the same cheerful tone. “I will continue to hurt people who try to hurt Taylor. Taylor does not want me to hurt you. If you do not provoke me, then I will not hurt you. Please step aside.”
"Well, as much as I appreciate seeing the big names step back from a teenage boy," Assault declared, "you did hurt kids. That's kind of a thing with me. So you're not going anywhere."
"Actually," I told him, "we are. We're getting on the bus and I'm going home. Because I am over this day." My voice was beginning to rise and become shriller, but I didn't care. "I've gone to my shithole of a school, been shoved into another shithole by my ex-best friend, been saved by the only person apart from my Dad who seems to care for my wellbeing, and now the fucking superheroes want to arrest him!" By now I was shouting, but my care factor was zero. "So why don't you just fuck off already?"
He shook his head. "Bus isn't coming, kid. Transit Authority's been alerted. No buses into a cape conflict zone." A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Though I have to admit, this is the first time I've ever seen someone try to leave a cape battle by bus."
I took a deep breath but before I could shout at him some more, Zach intervened. "Taylor, you are becoming agitated. This is not good." He turned to Assault. "You are harming Taylor emotionally. You will step out of the way. Now."
Battery stepped forward. "Uh, you can hear Armsmaster telling you to back off, right?" Figuring that she wasn't talking to me or Zach, I glanced over my shoulder at where both Armsmaster and Miss Militia were standing at a discreet distance. As I watched, Armsmaster made a cut-off gesture across his throat.
"No." It was Assault's voice. Looking forward, I saw him set his jaw. "He doesn't get to just walk away." He leaned forward and grinned at Zach. It wasn't a friendly sort of grin. "There's something I've been wanting to try out for a while, and you're just asking for it." And then he launched himself not at Zach, but backward, at the vehicle behind him.
I knew enough about the Protectorate to be aware that Assault's powers involved the control and redirection of kinetic energy. But knowing it and seeing it are two different things. When Assault hit the vehicle, he bounced forward, faster than he should have been able to do. He slammed into Zach and rebounded off of him, causing me to gasp and step back, but Zach himself didn't move an inch. Moving even faster now, Assault hit the vehicle and ricocheted forward at Zach once more.
After that, he was bouncing back and forth between Zach and the vehicle faster than I could follow with my eyes; the clangclangclang of him hitting the van was one continuous metallic ringing. And Zach never moved at all. Until he did.
What happened next was too fast to see. I thought that Zach's arm blurred forward in Assault's general direction, but I couldn't be certain. There was a resounding crash and the PRT vehicle was slammed around to the side. It now bore a dent the same shape and size as Assault's body, the hero himself a mere dot in the distance, which I quickly lost sight of even as I tried to keep track of him.
"What the hell?" demanded Battery. "What did you do to him?"
"I have done no permanent damage to him," Zach said cheerfully. "I merely added a large amount of kinetic energy to his store. He must dissipate it all before he can stop moving."
"Yes, but where is he?" asked Miss Militia. "We only have your word that he's all right."
"He will bounce off the Protectorate headquarters force-field in just a moment," Zach explained, "which will give him a southward trajectory. I estimate that he will land in the Charles River in about fifteen minutes."
Armsmaster's hand suddenly went to the side of his helmet. "Say that again," he said tersely.
"I said -" began Zach.
"Not you," interrupted Armsmaster. "Repeat please, Control."
"Why fifteen minutes?" I asked, curious despite myself.
"That is the time that it would take to ascend to thirty thousand feet and descend once more, in a safe and controlled manner," he informed me. "By the time he reaches ground level once more, he should have exhausted the excess kinetic energy."
"The Charles River," Battery repeated. "That's in Boston."
"Yes." Zach did not need to elaborate.
Armsmaster cleared his throat. "The Protectorate base just took a hit which shorted out all of the force-field generators. They are now tracking a fast-moving object, heading southward in a ballistic arc. Projected impact point is … huh. Boston."
“That is what I said,” agreed Zach.
Velocity looked stunned. "Did you just punch Assault into the next state?" His voice was just a little strangled.
“Could've been worse,” I offered, trying not to laugh. “If we'd been facing west, Zach could've punched him into the next time zone.”
“Now is not the time for levity, young lady,” Armsmaster told me severely.
“Well, I might as well laugh,” I told him to his face. “Because this situation's so fucking ridiculous that I've got to either laugh or cry. And I've done enough crying, thank you very much.”
“Do not make Taylor cry,” Zach warned him. “If you do, I will take away your weapon.”
“Oh, don't do that,” I told Zach. “If you do, he might cry. And I don't think I could take seeing a grown man cry, right now.”
I was only joking, kind of, but I was also glad that Armsmaster was only a Tinker. If he'd had any sort of laser death beams from his eyes, I would've been in serious peril. That was how hard he was glaring at me.
“This has gone far enough,” he gritted, grinding his teeth. I wondered how often he saw his orthodontist; the man had to be making a small fortune off of him. “I advise you to submit voluntarily to custody.”
“Well, you're half right,” I announced. “It's gone far enough. In fact, it passed the 'far enough' stage about a year ago, when absolutely nothing continued to get done by the school about my bullying, despite repeated complaints. And 'nothing' is still what's being done, only this time by the superheroes. Oh, wait, worse than nothing. Because you're still trying to arrest the only guy who's shown the slightest willingness to be a superhero and help me.”
An embarrassed silence fell at that point; I didn't give a shit any more. “Come on, Zach,” I told him, grabbing his hand. “Let's blow this popsicle stand.”
“I do not see a popsicle stand,” Zach observed. “I presume that you are using a figure of speech. The context indicates that you want to leave the area.” He didn't resist as I pulled him along.
“You got that right,” I agreed.
“Where are we going, Taylor?” he asked.
I lowered my voice, in the (possibly vain) hope that none of the nearby capes could hear me. “Home,” I murmured. “I just want to curl up on the couch and watch TV and eat ice-cream.” Though they probably had my home address by now, and could probably beat me there.
“Ice cream on its own is not an adequate food source, Taylor,” he told me seriously. “It is advisable to ingest a balanced meal first.”
“Don't care,” I retorted. “Ice cream therapy is a thing.”
“I understand, Taylor.” His tone never stopped being cheerful. “Sometimes, we must do things that are a little bit bad for us to feel better about ourselves.”
“Huh. I never thought about it like that before.” By now, we were well past the dented van and walking along the pavement away from Winslow. Behind us, I couldn't hear what the heroes were saying to each other, but I imagined that it was along the lines of 'are we just going to let them walk away?'
They didn't chase after us, not immediately. I suspected that they knew that Zach wouldn't punch any of them all the way to Boston, but they weren't taking any chances.
Which raised an interesting question. “Zach, you said that you added kinetic energy to Assault. How did you do that?”
His tone was earnest. “I applied kinetic energy, and manipulated his power to absorb it. The recoil is what sent him away.”
“Wait, you manipulated his power?” I stared at him. “So you are a cape.”
“No, Taylor.” His voice was as patient as ever. “I am not a fashion accessory.”
“What's that -” I pulled myself up. “Oh, ha ha. Funny joke. I meant a parahuman.”
“I was not joking, Taylor,” he said. “I do not know how to make a joke. Neither am I a parahuman.”
“But you have powers!” I exclaimed. “You're really strong, and you can manipulate other peoples' powers!”
“Yes, I have powers,” he agreed.
“Which makes you a parahuman,” I insisted. “A person with powers is a parahuman.”
“It would if I were human,” he explained. “But I am not. Therefore, even though I possess powers, I do not fit the definition of a parahuman.”
“Wait, what?” Looking at him, the contention was utterly ridiculous. He was as human as anyone. Definitely as human as me, maybe even more human than Emma and her friends. I shook my head. No, that's just unbelievable. He's just playing with my head. “Hah, you nearly had me,” I told him with a grin. “But I'm sorry. That one's just not gonna fly. Not human, my skinny white butt.”
“I believe that if I were to make any sort of comment regarding your butt, it would probably be taken as rude, and rightly so,” he observed. Wow, he can learn after all. “So I will not.”
I took hold of his arm and hugged it to my side. “Thank you, Zach. You're a real gentleman.” I paused. “But your sense of humour does need work. You really don't know how to tell a joke?”
“I could tell one if it were told to me,” he pointed out. “But I would not know what made it funny.”
“Ah.” I thought about that. “Okay, then. Jokes consist mainly of setting up an expectation in the mind of the listener, and then delivering a punchline that changes the entire context of the situation.”
He tilted his head. “I believe that I may require an example to apply to that explanation.”
I nodded. “All right. Og the caveman says to Zug the caveman, 'I just saw a sabre-toothed tiger go into your mother-in-law's cave.' Zug says, 'So what? What do I care about what happens to a sabre-toothed tiger?'”
Zach tilted his head slightly. “I presume the previous context is that I am supposed to be concerned for the mother-in-law, but then I learn that she is much more formidable than a sabre-toothed tiger. Humour makes use of misdirection. I think I understand.”
I grinned. “Yup. Or there's this one. It's a riddle. Why do firemen wear big red suspenders?”
“Hm.” Zach seemed to consider the question carefully. “Is it perhaps to do with the fact that fire engines are red as well, as an identification marker?”
Chuckling, I shook my head. “No. The answer is 'to keep their trousers up'.”
His face cleared, and he smiled broadly. “I understand. I really do. The misdirection is in the colour of the braces. I believe I can see the humour in that.”
I decided not to tell him that explaining a joke took all the fun out of it. He seemed to be enjoying himself, and that was what mattered. In the meantime, it was a nice day and I was enjoying walking along with his hand in mine.
I had no idea why Zach had decided that his job was to protect me, but I had little in the way of complaints about the way that he had gone about it. He was adamant that I was to be protected, and that made me feel warm inside, in a way that I hadn't for a very long time.
“I have a riddle for you, Taylor,” Zach announced suddenly, breaking into my thoughts.
“Really?” I asked. “What is it?” I decided that whatever he said, I was going to laugh. He was making the effort, and he deserved to be rewarded for it.
Zach cleared his throat and spoke. “Why did the fireman wear green suspenders?”
I blinked. This was actually something I couldn't figure out. “Okay, I give in. Why did the fireman wear green suspenders?”
Was that a look of smugness on his face, however slight? “Because he accidentally left his red suspenders at home that day.”
“Heh.” I had told myself I would laugh, but I didn't need the reminder. “Heh heh heh. That's funny. I like it.”
His earnest gaze searched my face. “That was actually funny? You are not merely saying that, Taylor?”
I squeezed his hand. “It is actually funny, Zach,” I assured him, still chuckling. “You got the misdirection perfectly.”
“It was not very funny, though,” he observed. “You did not laugh very much.”
“Well, no, but the jokes I told weren't very funny either,” I pointed out. “They're pretty old, and they'll only get a laugh once from any one person. It's the surprise factor, you see.”
“I believe that I understand,” he agreed. “Misdirection rarely works twice in the same way.”
I became aware of two vehicles approaching. Given that the road had been suspiciously clear of traffic for the last few minutes, I had little doubt that these were not casual road users.
One was coming from in front of us, while the other approached from behind. Looking back, I saw Armsmaster's cycle coming up to us at a steady pace, slowing as he neared us. Ahead was a PRT van, moving toward the curb as I watched.
“Don't attack anyone unless they show hostile intent to either of us,” I warned Zach. “I don't want anyone else getting hurt today. And that includes you.”
“I will not get hurt, Taylor,” he assured me. And to be honest, given what I had seen of his capabilities, I tended to believe his words. “And I will endeavour not to hurt anyone else. But if they look as though they can hurt you unless I hurt them first, then I will have to hurt them. I am sorry, but that is the way it has to be.”
I nodded. “I understand, Zach. Even if you have to hurt someone, try not to kill anyone.”
“I know that you do not want me to kill anyone, so I will not do that,” he assured me.
The PRT van pulled over to the curb, albeit on the wrong side of the road, and came to a halt. Armsmaster powered up alongside us, though in the far lane, and pulled up next to the van. As he got off the bike, the side door of the van opened and three costumed teens got out.
I was pretty sure that these were members of the Wards, given that they did not wear New Wave's distinctive costumes. The girl was about two years younger than me, and had on a blue-green costume with a skirt and a visor. One of the boys had a full body white costume with clocks all over it, while the other – I presumed he was a boy – wore grey armour with highlights gleaming off of it, very reminiscent of a knight of old.
Racking my brain, I was pretty sure that I knew who they were. “Vista, Clockblocker and Gallant,” I ventured. “Or at least I think so.”
“That is who they are,” Zach confirmed. “Each of them has offensive capability. Do you want me to neutralise them?”
Hastily, I shook my head. “No, no. Let's just see what they want first.”
“They want you to voluntarily enter custody,” he reminded me. “That has already been made clear.”
“Just let me do the talking to them, okay?” I didn't want to start a fight, and I didn't want a thoughtless remark by Zach starting one, either.
“Yes, Taylor,” he agreed. “I will not speak to the Wards without your permission.”
Which was a little more than I'd meant, but I left it alone. “Thanks.”
The PRT soldier who had driven the van stayed in the vehicle. Good. Armsmaster stood alongside it, his halberd still racked on his back – bad and good – with the three Wards flanking him. I opened my mouth to ask them to step aside, but Zach spoke first.
“Armsmaster!” he called out. Oh, shit. Don't provoke him. “I have a riddle for you.”
That got everyone's attention, including mine. I had no idea what the Wards were thinking of that.
“What?” asked the head of the Protectorate ENE. “A riddle? Is this some kind of joke to you?”
“I am learning how to tell jokes. This is the riddle. Why did the fireman wear blue suspenders to work?”
Armsmaster stared back at him. A long, tense moment passed. “I don't know,” he grunted.
The flicker of Zach's smile was almost too fast for me to see. “Because he lost his green suspenders,” he explained.
There was another long pause, during which time I began to chuckle. When Armsmaster spoke, his voice was puzzled. “I don't get it.”
“Don't worry, I do,” I managed to say between giggles.
“When we get the chance,” Zach added kindly, “I will explain it to you.”
I thought I caught a snort of laughter from one of the Wards. Neither Gallant nor Vista was smiling, so I figured that it was Clockblocker.
I indicated the Wards barring our path. “Okay,” I said, “so what's this?”
<><>
Dean groaned mentally when Clockblocker snorted with laughter. Be professional, damn it, he wanted to tell his teammate. Even though Vista had swirls of humour washing through her aura, she was managing not to smile, despite being years younger than Dennis.
“Okay,” the tall lanky girl said, indicating Dean and the others. “So what's this?”
They'd been brought up to speed on the way over. The girl was, as far as anyone knew, not a parahuman. Her name was Taylor Hebert, she was a sophomore at Winslow High.
The boy's name was Zachary. He was not a Winslow student. He was a parahuman, with tentative ratings of Brute 8 or higher, and possibly Mover. So far, no background checks had been able to bring anything up on him under that name or powerset. There had been no known contact between him and Taylor Hebert before this day.
There had been a brief rundown on the situation to this point. Zachary was known to be extremely protective of Taylor, so under no circumstance were they to attack her. Four teenagers had been injured by him, possibly as a retaliation for bullying actions taken toward her. There had then been a confrontation in the cafeteria, which had ended inconclusively. Outside, the pair had been confronted by Assault (acting against orders) which had ended … bizarrely.
<><>
His first view of Taylor Hebert and her aura did not make him overly optimistic of resolving it peacefully. She had so much hurt inside her, extending so deep, that it was practically geological in nature. Bright sparks of hope were breaking it up, but they had so far to go that he wasn't sure she would ever be free of it. And some of the pain was transforming to anger, coming to the surface in a manner not dissimilar to magma in a volcanic vent. If she ever truly blows her top … watch out.
Dean cleared his throat. “Miss Hebert, we've been asked to speak with you, and see if we can't bring this to a satisfactory conclusion.”
From her aura, Taylor Hebert wasn't overly thrilled by the idea. As for her companion …
Dean blinked. Okay, that's really weird. He's just not showing up. Where Zachary was, was … a blank. He may as well have not been there at all.
Just as he was beginning to seriously wonder about that, Zach glanced over at him. A slight smile appeared to play over the boy's mouth, and then his emotions were on full view, just like everyone else's.
Before Dean could consider the ramifications of that, Taylor spoke. “Satisfactory for you or for me?”
“Yes,” declared Clockblocker firmly.
Vista sighed slightly. “What he means is that we don't want this to get any worse. We don't want to fight. Can we talk?”
Taylor's jaw hardened. “Do I have a choice?”
Zachary spoke up. His voice was cheerful and bright, as if he were talking about a favourite movie. “You always have a choice, Taylor. We can keep walking, or you can talk. That is your choice. If they try to stop us, I will neutralise them. That is their choice.”
Dean steeled himself not to react, even as Clockblocker tensed and Vista took half a step back – no, wait, she stretched space between them very slightly. “We're not attacking you,” he reminded them.
“I don't want to fight, either,” admitted Taylor. “I don't want anyone else getting hurt.” Pausing, she turned toward Armsmaster. “So is there any word about Assault yet?”
The older hero nodded once. “They just fished him out of the Charles River. He'll be fine.”
Taylor let out a tiny sigh; her aura swirled with relief. “Good. I'm glad.”
“Wait, wait.” That was Clockblocker. “You punched Assault so hard he bounced off the Protectorate base and landed in Boston? And you were able to aim him at the river?”
“Yes, Clockblocker,” Zachary answered promptly. “I believe that you call it a bank shot. It was not very difficult.”
Clockblocker shook his head; his aura showed strong tones of disbelief. His voice was barely audible as he muttered, “Bullshit. Just bullshit.”
“Ignore him,” Dean advised them. “So, Taylor. Can I call you Taylor?”
Taylor shrugged, pretending indifference, although her aura showed signs of both trepidation and awe. “Might as well. Free country.”
“Taylor, then.” Dean did his best to sound friendly, unthreatening. “As you can see, we have a problem. I'd like your help in resolving it.”
“I have a solution.” She stared at him, her defiance only partly real. “You step aside, Zach and I walk home, you leave us alone, nobody else gets hurt. Problem solved.”
“The trouble with that is people have been injured. The law requires that the guilty party be at least taken into custody. We would prefer this to happen with as little in the way of problems as possible.” He looked at her hopefully, expecting more defiance, or perhaps acquiescence. What he didn't expect was triumph.
“Yeah, that's true. People have been hurt.” She jabbed a thumb at her chest. “Me. I've been getting bullied for more than a year by those bitches. Today, they shoved me in my locker with the most horrible shit I've ever smelled. They locked me in there.” She took a step closer to him, anger bubbling up through the triumph. “So if you want to arrest someone for hurting someone else, arrest those three bitches for provoking Zach into protecting me. I'll even give you names -”
Armsmaster stirred. “That's not necessary. We have the names -”
She didn't even look around. “Shut the fuck up. I'm not talking to you. The names of the bitches are Emma Barnes. Madison Clements. And Sophia fucking Hess. Arrest them, not Zach..”
Clockblocker and Vista showed signs of shock, even as Dean felt the same emotion spark in his own brain. Sophia Hess? Shadow Stalker? Does Armsmaster even know … He looked at Armsmaster, and saw resignation and irritation. Shit. He knew, and he was holding out on us.
Still, he had to be sure. “You're certain about these people. Certain that they're specifically the ones who did this to you?”
“Yes,” Zach stated flatly. “I saw it. Sophia pushed Taylor into the locker. Emma locked it. Madison watched and laughed. Then they tried to stop me from getting to the locker so that I could let Taylor out.”
Fuck. This is a lot more complicated than I was led to believe. From the auras of the other two Wards, they felt the same way. “I … did not know that.”
“Well, you know it now.” Taylor stared at him challengingly. “What are you gonna do about it?”
Dean had heard about 'no-win situations', but he'd never been placed into one until now. If she's telling the truth – and her aura says she is – then we, as the Wards, have fucked up massively. Attacking Zach right now would be amazingly unwise, as well as being totally unjust.
But if we just let her walk away, that makes the Wards look bad, too.
No matter what I do, I'm screwed.
It was Vista who saved him. “Taylor, what are your plans right now?”
Taylor turned to look at her. “Right now? Walk home. Get there eventually. Have something to eat. Why?”
Vista was nothing if not persistent. “Do you plan on committing any crimes, or allowing Zach to commit any?”
The tall lanky girl snorted. “Pfft, no. Zach, you're not going to commit any crimes, are you?”
“No, Taylor. I do not intend to commit any crimes.” The effect was spoiled slightly when he went on. “Unless you tell me to.”
“No.” Taylor shook her head. “If you committed crimes, that would make me unhappy.”
“I will not commit any crimes.” Zach's voice was definitive. “Unless helping you forces me to commit a crime. Then I will commit a crime, but I will apologise afterward.”
With a wry twist to her mouth, and a streak of humour running through her aura, Taylor turned back to Vista. “I guess that's the best you're gonna get.”
“Thank you.” Vista turned to Gallant; he caught the wash of longing in her aura, but did his best to ignore it. “Gallant, what do you think?” Is she telling the truth?
Dean had seen Taylor's aura. There had been no deception involved in what she said. Or, for that matter, in Zachary's aura. He took a deep breath, making a palm-out gesture to Taylor and Zachary. “Can we just … discuss things for a moment?”
Taylor's brows drew down. “How long is a moment?”
“Uh, five minutes? Tops? And then we'll figure out what to do. I promise.”
She pressed her lips together. “You've got four minutes.”
“Thank you.” Gallant stepped back, gesturing for the others to come with him.
Armsmaster ignored the gesture, remaining there obdurately.
“Sir?” Dean asked.
Armsmaster glanced around. “What?”
“Um, we need to discuss that important issue? The one that won't wait?”
“This isn't the time -”
Dean could read Armsmaster's desire not to talk about it, but this only fuelled his determination. “Sir, if not now, when? This is very relevant to the situation at hand.”
Armsmaster could have been carved from stone.
“Or, you know,” Clockblocker added cheerfully, “we could just talk about it in front of them. That's probably easier.”
Dean could have hugged the white-costumed jokester. He'd struck exactly the right note needed to break the impasse; lips pressed to a razor-thin line, Armsmaster turned toward them. The older hero took one step, then turned his head to address Taylor and Zach. “Don't move.”
“Oh, we're not going anywhere,” Taylor agreed, then ostentatiously checked her watch. “For another three minutes and thirty seconds, anyway.”
They moved down the pavement until Dean figured that they were out of casual earshot of the pair. For all he knew, Zach could hear a pin drop in Chicago, but there was such a thing as being too paranoid. “Okay then. Sir. Seriously?”
Armsmaster's voice was hard and cold. “Be very careful, Gallant. I'm still your commanding officer.”
“I understand that, sir,” Dean agreed. “What I don't understand is why you saw fit to hold something that – that significant back from us. Talking to them, I get it. Making us look stupid by not telling us everything? Did you want us to fail?”
“The trouble is that it's very hard to compartmentalise information like that,” Armsmaster stated flatly. “If we told you that Shadow Stalker had been injured, that would give you an erroneous view of the situation. If we amended that to the fact that she was in her civilian identity, and then you found out that Zachary's only victims were her alleged bullies …”
“ … we would then find out what you were trying to keep from us anyway,” Clockblocker finished for him. “But that's what I don't understand. Why were you trying to keep it from us?”
“Because he didn't want us to be prejudiced in their favour when we were talking to them,” Dean guessed. “I'm right, aren't I?” No answer was forthcoming, but the sourness in Armsmaster's aura spoke volumes.
“If you'd gotten away with it, what would you have done?” piped up Vista. “Just swept it under the carpet?”
Armsmaster shook his head. “No. We would have investigated, quietly, and just as quietly eased Shadow Stalker out of the spotlight.”
“In other words, you would have handled it,” Clockblocker said, filling the word with derision.
“Well, I'm not surprised that she was doing it,” Vista noted. “She was mean.”
“Yeah.” Clockblocker nodded. “You gotta admit, she's not a nice person. Even if she does have a nice -”
“Do not finish that sentence.” Wonder of wonders, Armsmaster's growl shut Clockblocker up.
“Okay then.” Dean took a deep breath. “So one of ours bullied that girl – and unless she can fake her emotions better than anyone ever, it's definitely true – to the point where some random Brute pops up out of the blue to save her.”
“And then, just to make things even better,” Clockblocker put in, “we decide to attack the actual hero of the piece. The guy who saved her.”
“And Assault gets punched all the way to Boston,” put in Vista. “Just in case we didn't look stupid enough already.”
“I still think that's bullshit,” Clockblocker muttered. “Okay, so what do we do about it?”
Just then, something passed overhead, with a fading “Woohoooooo” noise trailing after it. Everyone looked around to see a vaguely human-shaped dot, airborne, disappearing into the middle distance.
“Wait,” Dean blurted. “He can fly? Nobody said that he could fly.”
“I don't think he's flying,” Vista said carefully. “It looks like a ballistic arc.”
“Vista is correct.” Armsmaster agreed absently. “He's jumping.”
Dean blinked. “How far is he jumping?”
Vista rubbed her chin thoughtfully. “I'd guesstimate about half a mile?”
After a moment, Armsmaster nodded. “I concur.”
Dean and Clockblocker looked back to where the two had been standing; there was only a pair of footprints, sunk about an inch into the concrete. “Bullshit,” Clockblocker muttered. “Just bullshit.”